


decimating dreams

by curiouscorvid (prometheanTactician)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blind Character, Family Feels, Gen, Gerry is five, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, mary keay is the worst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:08:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23099113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prometheanTactician/pseuds/curiouscorvid
Summary: Mary didn't have Gerry in her grasp for long. That doesn't mean she didn't do any damage.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 116





	decimating dreams

It must be some sort of miracle, Eric thinks, that allows him to have this. He knows that miracles don't exist, you can't be involved with Mary Keay without losing hope in such things, but it still feels like something beautiful took mercy on him. More importantly, it took mercy on his son. How else could he have wrested their son from her too-tight grip? How else could they have escaped from her too-sharp eyes?

Every day, he expects her to catch up to them.

Every night, he struggles to sleep, terrified she'll have come in the night to take their son away.

He doesn't know, exactly, what her plans for Gerry were. But they can't have been good. Her plans were always such horrifying things. Whatever it was would have hurt him, he's sure of that, and Eric would die before he allowed any harm to come to his boy. He can't say that he can't imagine the sort of person who could look at someone so innocent, so defenceless, and decide to hurt them. He knows exactly what sort of person could do that. He knows the person who would have done that.

He can't imagine how Gerry would have weathered his mother's world, though. Gerry, who smiles like the sunshine and gently pets bumblebees. Gerry, who he frequently finds feeding the neighbours cats through the window while softly telling them how lovely and special they are. Gerry, who likes to paint, who likes to sing, who likes to read more than anything. Gerry, who is soft and small and helpless and so, so kind.

Gerry is a gentle child. A sweet child. A soft child.

He'd never stand a chance. 

She'd twist him, break him, destroy him. She'd try to snuff out the brightness within him and Eric has no doubt that she'd succeed. It's not as if she hasn't already done her damage to the poor thing. He'd never tell her that, though.

It would please her far too much.

It isn't unusual for Gerry to wake him up at night. Usually tugging at his hand or trying to climb up onto his bed, not tall enough to do so easily yet. He's scared of the dark, and even a nightlight isn't quite enough. If he falls asleep early while reading then usually he's okay. 

Sometimes, though.

Sometimes he isn't okay at all.

The scream rips through the night the same way it rips through Eric's chest, bloody and raw. It rends the stillness of their tiny house after dark, tears through the shadows and scrapes against the walls. It's a scream so pure in its terror that for a moment Eric is sure his heart stops beating from the shock of it.

It's a sound a child should never have to make.

Eric is across the house in seconds. It doesn’t matter that he can’t see a damn thing. The house is small, and he knows it well, especially the path to Gerry’s room. He’s there in a single hitched breath, a single frozen heartbeat. The screaming has stopped, collapsed into heaving sobs as Gerry wakes up shivering and scared. It’s barely a second before Eric has him in his arms, but it’s the longest second of his life.

Gerry clings immediately. His hands are tiny, but they grip onto him with a desperate strength brought on by sheer terror. He buries his face in his father’s sleepshirt, and it’s almost immediately soaked in tears. He’s shaking so hard that Eric is nervous he might completely break apart, so he holds the child tightly and hopes that will be enough to keep him in one piece.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, you’re alright.” He whispers, carrying Gerry out of the room. Eric is far too big to sleep in Gerry’s bed, and there’s no way Gerry will go back to sleep alone. “Just a bad dream, Gerry. You’re safe.”

“She was back!” Gerry hiccups into his shoulder. “She was back and— and she hurt you and— you were on the ground— you weren’t moving and— and she came after me—”

He doesn’t have to ask who Gerry is talking about.

“Oh, sweetheart…” Eric sighs, his heart twisting where it lies in his chest. Finally, he reaches his own bedroom and sits on the bed, Gerry still curled in his arms. “My poor boy. It’s alright. I’m okay, see? We’re both just fine. The protections on the house are undisturbed. She can’t get us.”

God, he hopes he isn’t jinxing them by saying that. Gerry whimpers and sniffles, but his sobs start to subside.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, Gerry. I’m going to keep you safe.”

“And you too?” He asks, voice small and shaking, and Eric isn’t sure whether or not he wishes he could see his son’s face in that moment. “You gotta be safe too.” He insists.

“Of course. Of course, I’ll be safe too. We both will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“... I’m sleepy.” Gerry mumbles, shifting in his father’s arms to scrub at his tear-stained face.

“Then sleep, darling. I just told you that I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?” He ruffles Gerry’s hair, just to hear him giggle, however shaky the sound is. He lays back on the bed, lets Gerry find a comfortable spot curled up against him. Once they’re settled, he rubs the poor boys back in soothing circles until the shaking subsides.

Gerry isn’t an easily frightened child. Not by any stretch of the imagination. He can handle things most children his age cannot, though Eric does his best to ensure he never has to. Still, given enough time and love, he’s usually okay.

Sometimes, though.

Sometimes he isn’t okay at all.


End file.
